


Like a Burn Under The Skin

by Bluerain1984



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [12]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Back Yard BBQs, Dad Banter, Drunkenness, Gen, Groping, Issues, Jealousy, Joseph has issues, M/M, Mary is a mama bear, Past Infidelity, Prelude to angsty things, Public Display of Affection, Robert is surprisingly cuddly, Swim suits, What did we say about making assumptions?, just a little, with a dash of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerain1984/pseuds/Bluerain1984
Summary: 'Sometimes, he truly wondered if the sun was indeed necessary for life. '





	Like a Burn Under The Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all for your patience! Here is the next installment. See you below.

Sometimes, he truly wondered if the sun was indeed necessary for life. True, it gave his garden vitality, and the body required some exposure to it. And yet, Damien absolutely abhorred when the star that warmed the Earth decided it wanted burn everything. Such was his state on the day of the end-of-summer gathering that the entire neighborhood had been invited to. Joseph’s visit the week prior had been followed up with printed-out invitations, all placed in each mail box along the street, requesting everyone to bring an offering of food, and to wear swimming attire for the rented water-slide and other ‘wet and slippery activities,’ to quote the invitation.

It seemed to Damien that Joseph could predict when to do such things on the hottest days of summer. So it was, Damien carried the salad he had promised to bring in one hand, and an open parasol in the other, whilst dressed in his favorite purple and black striped, historically accurate swimsuit. Thank heaven that Victorian men liked to cover up everything save their feet and forearms when swimming. Lucien walked just behind Damien, the teen wearing a black tank top that sported ‘Fangs for Nuthin’ across the chest, and a standard modern pair of swimming trunks. Both Bloodmarches wore wire-framed sunglasses.

“Did you remember to put on enough sun-screen, Lucien?” Damien asked his son as they approached the Christiansens’ door.

“Dad, I’m practically painted in it,” Lucien replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m only being careful,” Damien assured his son. “You burn so quickly. I don’t want you to come down with sun poisoning again.”

“Your fault,” Lucien grumbled. True, Damien’s fair complexion, while suitable to the Gothic appearance, was easily damaged by the sun. Another reason he hated it, at times. Like his son, Damien had slathered sunscreen on himself before coming outside today. The father and son were at their neighbor’s porch when someone came up behind them.

“Yo, Dames,” Robert said. Damien paused to turn and look and… Oh gracious! He nearly dropped his bowl of greens at the sight. Robert rarely attended the soirees in summer, previously, and when he had, Damien recalled the man wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, and avoiding much interaction, save for a talk with Mary or Brian. Today, Damien’s paramour was clearly putting on a bit of effort to be ‘festive’ by wearing an open short-sleeved button up and trunks, both a bright red. The outfit revealed Robert’s thick and toned chest, as well as his hair-lined abdomen. His legs from the lower-thigh down were fully exposed! He knew he shouldn’t feel scandalized by seeing Robert in swimwear, but… Damien cleared his throat, and lowered his parasol a bit to hide his scarlet face better in its shade.

“Robert, dear,” Damien said. “You look…ready for the festivities.”

“Eh, it’s hot, might as well.” Robert said. He ran his eyes over Damien. “You look good, too.”

Lucien made a noise of disgust.

As Damien turned his face down a bit more, Robert shifted the case of beer he had tucked under his left arm, and reached his right hand out to ruffle Lucien’s hair. “Hey there, Kid.”

“Ugh! Don’t touch the hair!” Lucien protested, smacking his hands at Robert’s arm and escaping the offending hand.

Robert laughed at Lucien’s reaction. “Why? You wantin’ to impress someone?”

“Just shut up,” Lucien snapped.

“Lucien,” Damien hardly needed much to warn his son, at times, but a disapproving tone in his voice.

Lucien groaned in frustration. “Sorry, Mr. Small. Please, give me some space.”

“Whatever, Kid,” Robert said. Damien closed his parasol for a bit, approached their hosts’ door, and knocked. They were greeted by Joseph’s ever cheerful, exceptionally wide grin.

“Hey! You made it! Wonderful,” Joseph said gleefully. The blond gentleman before them was modestly dressed in a white t-shirt with ‘Margaritaville ‘05’ artificially spray-painted along the chest, and trunks styled to simulate khakis. Joseph took Damien’s bowl from him. “Thank you so much, Damien. You bring such a nice variety to the veggie selection.” Joseph’s eyes went to Robert and he started reaching for the case of beer. “Let me give you a hand with that, Robert.”

“No thanks,” Robert curtly said, stepping through the door and around Joseph to head through the house toward the back yard.

Damien entered, with Lucien close behind him, and said to Joseph, “You already have so much to do as our gracious host, Joseph. And you know Robert’s temperament, I’m sure.”

“Oh, no, I appreciate the help. And yeah, I’m used to his… personality,” Joseph replied. “Let’s head on back; the usual suspects are all gathered,” he added with a chuckle. Damien readily walked past his neighbor to go through the house and toward the back-yard entry.

Indeed, all of their neighbors, young and old, had gathered today. The air was ripe with the pseudo-coconut scent of sunscreen and hints of petrichor from the wet, inflated water-slide that had been erected. A few children were already sliding down it, including Brian Harding’s young daughter Daisy, and Craig Cahn’s identical twins. Meanwhile, other children were playing with water guns, among them Chris Christiansen, Ernest Vega, Mat Sella’s daughter, Carmensita, and Miss Amanda. Mary’s twins were seated at a table eating bowls of shaved ice, the pair staring at the party guests in their eerie manner. The other fathers had congregated just to the side of the contraption, all in their own styles of swim-attire, and already deep in conversation. Robert had joined them, it seemed, and was well into a bottle of his ale. Damien looked down at his son, and asked, “Will you be all right if I socialize, son?”

“Dad, chill,” Lucien said, “I’m cool.” Suddenly a jet of water came at the two of them. Damien screeched from the onslaught, while Lucien shouted an obscenity. Their startled reactions were met with laughter from Ernest, who wielded a large water gun in his arms.

“Gotcha, Dorks!” Ernest yelled. Lucien glared at his classmate.

“I’m gonna Tale-Tale-Heart you, you asshole!” Lucien shouted, charging.

Damien opened his parasol again, and called to his son, “Please do NOT murder him and bury him under our floorboards, Lucien!” Damien shook his head, and proceeded to join his dearest and their friends.

“I just think that Sheila and Cory are gonna catch up with the Philly-Phenoms before Barry and Tom get near the Munster Truck,” Amanda’s father said to Hugo. “They’ve been tailing the Phenoms since the beginning, and they’ve got the truck’s Twitter on their phones—they have an advantage!”

“Social media can only provide so much,” Hugo argued. “The quick word-of-mouth generated by Munster’s popularity will get them through.”

“Dude,” Craig chimed in, “I gotta go with my Bro on this. Sheila and Cory are gonna win.” Craig’s infant, River, cooed in what could have been construed as an agreement with her father as she wriggled in the harness that kept her bound to her father’s broad chest.

“I’m still rooting for Tootie and Bruce,” Brian added.

Damien moved in close to Robert’s side and asked, “What are you all talking about?”

“The new season of The Amazing Food Truck Chase,” Mat clarified.

Damien, scrunched his nose a bit. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that show.” He wasn’t one to indulge in a great deal of television in the first place. Popular TV fads were not his forte.

“Dude, it’s awesome!” Craig exuberantly proclaimed. “A pair of bros chase after food trucks travelin’ across the country.”

“For what purpose?” Damien inquired.

“To promote their favorite truck,” Hugo explained. “The teams participate in challenges that help to increase the food truck’s business as they try to catch up with said truck.”

“The truck that earns the most by the end of the race gets a second truck to use to increase their business,” Amanda’s father said, “And the team that catches up to their truck first wins ten thousand bucks!”

Damien pushed his sunglasses, which had slid down his nose, back up to their proper perch. “Well, it sounds… thrilling,” Damien said. During the long exposition, Damien had felt Robert’s hand find its way to his back, and now it was sliding to rest on Damien’s hip. He was doing his best to hide what he believed to be obvious anxiety at being touched by his lover while Robert was practically naked (an exaggeration to most, but for Damien, it felt so), and so many people were near. After a moment to collect himself mentally, Damien moved closer to Robert.

“It’s okay,” Mat said, “But I’m just kinda watching it casually. I’m more into America’s Next Top Magician.”

“You know the votin’s rigged on that,” Robert told Mat.

“Hey, talent is recognized, and the judges are fair,” Mat replied.

“It’s all rigged,” Robert repeated, “All competition shows are. They pick the winner from the beginnin’ and the rest is just scripted bull.”

“Dude, don’t harsh our mellow,” Craig said.

“Yeah, you can believe that,” Craig’s paramour added, “but we choose to have hope in the integrity of reality television.”

Damien was about to attempt a change in subject when Mary arrived, shouting loudly, “HEY LOSERS! This is supposed to be a party!” Her steps were slightly off-balance, and her eyes had a tale-tale glassiness to them. She wore a matching t-shirt to her husband’s and a pair of denim shorts.

Robert let out a raucous laugh. “Well, it’s a party now,” he said, letting go of Damien to grab a bottle of beer for their friend and offer it to her. Damien silently felt a twinge of disappointment at losing the contact.

Mary took the bottle eagerly. “Sweet, palate cleanser.” She consumed about half of the bottle, then grabbed Robert’s hand and said “Hey! Don’t let me get between you gropin’ your boyfriend." She then placed Robert’s hand not on Damien’s hip, as before, but right on his buttocks.

Damien’s face and ears burned as he blushed. “Mary!”

Robert merely laughed again. “Hey, I wasn’t before, but I guess since it’s your house, it’s your rules.” He then proceeded to give Damien’s fleshy cheek a squeeze.

“PUBLICDISPLAYSOFAFFECTIONARETABOO!” Damien spewed, dropping his parasol and attempting to flee. Robert grabbed him around the waist and tugged him back over, holding him tight.

“Hey,” Robert said, “Don’t run away. I was touchin’ you before.”

“N-not like th-that!” Damien stammered. His blood was burning in his veins at such close contact to so much of Robert’s bare flesh, all while in full display of their friends and acquaintances. The majority of who were now staring at them. Only Mary and their mutual friend were looking on in amusement instead of disbelief.

“You two are…dating?” Hugo finally queried.

“Yeah,” Robert said, tightening his hold on Damien. “So?”

“N-Nothing,” Hugo said, raising a hand defensively, “It’s just… very much news to me. I assumed you were friends, given the incident with Duchess, but, I didn’t know you were… romantically involved.”

“Dude, I didn’t think you two even talked except for barbeques,” Craig said. “But, ya know, it’s cool! Congrats!”

“Yeah,” Brian interjected with a large smile. “As long as you’re happy, it’s a great thing!”

Damien drew his shoulders up toward his ears, eyes going down. “Th-thank you.” He was quite humbled by everyone’s acceptance of his and Robert’s relationship. He felt sheepish about his reaction to Robert’s teasing a moment ago. But he seemed to already have Robert’s forgiveness, as he felt Robert’s bristly cheek against his ear, and a brief kiss placed below his lobe, before Robert let go of him.

“I gotta go have a seat on the porcelain throne. Don’t get too lonely,” Robert told Damien before waving at their neighbors and walking into the house.

There was a bit of silence before Craig’s paramour coughed, and said, “So! What do you guys think about Haunted House Flippers?”

* * *

 

Robert finished his business, and after a quick wash to his hands, he left the bathroom, hands going into his shorts’ pockets as he made his way through the house. He avoided looking at anything, not keen on some of his memories of the house, but knowing his way around too well. He wanted to get back out to Dames as soon as possible.

Of course, life doesn’t work that way, even in the best of times.

“Seems like everyone’s happy for you two,” Robert stopped when he heard Joseph talking to him. Bastard caught him halfway through the kitchen, almost to the back door.

Robert didn’t look at him as he answered. “Yeah. It’s not bad, havin’ someone I can actually be out with in public.”

“It _is_ good,” Joseph said. “I mean, you showed up, and you’re not just drinking in a corner with Mary, or scaring people with your wild stories! So, that’s an improvement.”

“Dames is genuinely classy,” Robert told him. “Unlike some folks who phone it in.” He wasn’t going to pull punches on the jerk. “It kinda rubs off on you.”

“Clearly,” Joseph said. Robert could hear the sarcasm, but didn’t care. Really didn’t. He was about to start for the door again when he heard Joseph add, “You know, it's so funny now, but I honestly thought he was going to start dating Hugo for a while.”

Robert snapped his head in Joseph’s direction. “What?”

Joseph walked over to him, pointing at the windows that gave a full view into the back yard. “Well, I’ve noticed that they usually gravitate to each other at the barbeques and parties,” he said. “And when I catch snippets of their conversations, they get really into their literature discussions. They’re both men of sophisticated tastes, even if Damien’s run a little morbid. Just look at them.”

Robert did look, and outside he saw Hugo and Damien talking. Hugo’s hands were moving around the way some people do when they’re really into what they’re saying, and Dames was smiling. And laughing. And using his free hand to gesture as much as Hugo.

“What’s your point?” Robert asked.

“My point is they’ve got a lot of chemistry,” Joseph said. “And I just thought they’d make a good couple.”

“Yeah, well, guess you were wrong,” Robert said, done with this conversation. “He’s with me, and he can have friends who like the more high-brow stuff and still date a low-brow guy.” He didn’t know if Joseph was trying to bait him into being jealous, but he wasn’t going to give the shit the satisfaction if he was.

 As Robert turned to walk away again, Joseph’s hand reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. When had the fucker gotten so close? Joseph asked, voice soft, “And what about the…private side of things? You do have certain ‘interests.’ How is he handling them?”

Robert felt a spike of cold shoot through his skin, followed by a hot searing sensation. “That’s none of your damn business,” he seethed at Joseph.

The blond man’s voice went into that weird ‘comforting’ tone he liked to use when he was full on ‘church-man’ mode. “Of course it’s my business. We were friends once, Rob.”

“Don’t call me that,” Robert jerked away from Joseph. “And we ain’t anythin’ anymore.”

Joseph put on a pout. “I know that, but I’m still concerned. I’ve also known Damien for a while, Robert—I grew up with him and Mary. He may dress somber and dark, but he’s very shy. Extremely polite. More submissive in personality… But I’m guessing you know all of that already?”

Robert wanted nothing more than to punch the teeth out of the mother fucker right now.

“He gets the job done,” Robert finally said.

Joseph looked surprised. “Does he?” Then that fake ass Stepford smile popped back up on his face. “That’s great! After all, it wouldn’t do if things went stale, like they did with me and Mary…”

Now Robert wanted to knock his teeth out, and break his damn nose. “We done, here?”

Joseph didn’t answer right off, so Robert made the choice to think they were. As he was about to go, Joseph said, “Just… one thing.”

“What?”

“…Do you ever think about the old days? Between us?” And there it was, right out. Robert turned to glare at his ex-lover.

“No.”

“You really don’t?” Joseph asked him. He pointed outside again toward Damien, “You don’t think about what we had and… compare?”

Robert had had enough. He stepped in close, face inches from Joseph’s. Then, Robert put on his best, most brutally lascivious smile. “Damien Bloodmarch is the best fuck I’ve ever had, and he’s a helluva lot tighter than your candy coated ass ever was.”

The wide-eyed stare he got from his ex made Robert feel like he’d just won a damn prize. Without any other word, Robert shoved his hands back into his pockets, and headed outside. He walked with purpose to Damien, and wrapped his arms around Damien’s waist, pulling him in, and pressing his nose to Damien’s neck to breathe in the smell of his skin, not giving a single fuck about interrupting his conversation with Hugo.

“Oh,” Damien said, “Robert. I’m glad you’ve returned.”

“Hm,” Robert answered. He glanced at Hugo, who looked embarrassed to be watching them. “S’cuse me, gonna steal him for a little bit.”

“Oh, um, no, I understand,” Hugo said, “You don’t have to go, I’ll just… I think I’ll get another glass of punch.” Robert was glad the nerd knew how to read the atmosphere.

Once Robert was alone with Damien in their corner of the yard, he ducked his head down into Dames’s neck again.

“Robert?” Damien asked. Yeah, he was getting better at reading Robert. That was and wasn’t a good thing right now.

“Just gimmie a minute,” Robert said, before he started placing kisses on Damien’s nape. He felt the younger man jump, then shiver in his arms.

“Robert,” Damien’s voice was quivering. “I’m n-not used to public displays…”

“Sorry,” Robert said. He stopped kissing and just held onto him. “Just felt like it.”

Damien relaxed on him a little. “I suppose it’s something we’ll adjust to… And I don’t mind making an exception for you.”

Robert smiled. “You’re my exception, too, baby,” he whispered. Robert hated PDA in the past, and even if he was absolutely hot for someone before, he usually kept his hands off, staying as far back as possible until he could find a nice, dark corner, or a room, or a toilet stall. But touching Dames made him feel calm. Made him feel grounded, and helped him think. He hadn’t had that in a while. And God damn it, he needed that feeling right now. He glanced over where he saw Joseph staring at them from inside of the kitchen.

_Fuck you, Joseph Christiansen and all your bullshit._

* * *

 

Joseph couldn’t breathe. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID_! He should have stopped the words from coming out of his mouth. He should have never asked to begin with. He hadn’t wanted to know, and Robert had been right; it was none of his business to know what the two men did together. He had even tried to show comradery and be funny, add a little humorous honesty (after all, who wouldn’t have put the two most educated and ‘geeky’ men in the cul-de-sac together?), but it ended up blowing up in his face, and then he just… He just… He couldn’t let it go. Some part of him, the part that still longed to slap the faces of authority, decency, and expectation wanted to know if he still might have left some sort of impression on Robert.

Apparently he left a very bad one.

And now he was being eclipsed.

Joseph leaned forward, hands going to the counter top under the window sill, and he bowed his head. He took a deep breath.

_Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done…forgive us our trespasses… So many, many trespasses._

“Hey.”

Joseph raised his head to see Mary’s scowl as his wife stood by the kitchen island. She had her arms crossed. “People are wondering if you’re actually gonna cook something today.”

He stood up again, and smoothed his hair with his palms. “Just needed a moment to… reflect.”

“Sure,” Mary snorted. Joseph started to gather up the meats and other things he needed for the grill. Mary walked up to his side, and grabbed his wrist. Her grip on him was hard, fierce.

“Don’t you dare fuck them up,” she snarled. He looked down and the expression on her face was full of more fire than he’d seen in a while.

“I,” he paused, the look in her eyes and the touch on his wrist felt hot enough to brand him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You know what I mean. Don’t fuck them up.”

“Why would I?” he asked her.

“Because you’re a selfish bastard,” she said. Mary let go, then took a step away. “I mean it,” she repeated, finger pointed at him. “You mess them up at all, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Joseph couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at his wife. “Are you actually threatening me?”

Her smile was dripping with venom. “I’m promising you, ‘honey bun,’ that I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”

The two stared at one another in frigid spite before Joseph grabbed up his grilling platter and started walking around her. He stopped right next to Mary, turned his head, and whispered to her, “You don’t have any faith in me at all, do you?”

The searing look he recieved from her confirmed that she did not.

He really didn’t need to be goaded like this. It was the worst thing to do; he had a compulsion when told not to do something to go right out and skirt the line. Didn’t Mary know that? He knew she really didn’t want anything compromising the relationship between her friends, and he knew her ire was something to be afraid of (in high school and afterward, she had shown herself to be absolutely vicious in fights, giving men twice her size black eyes and bruises that lasted for months). But Mary wouldn’t dare harm him physically, for the legal repercussion, no matter how much she might hate him… No. He knew she could destroy him in other ways. Revealing their secrets, taking his children, burning down everything they’d built—that **_he_** had built. He couldn’t risk that. If he were a sane, smart man, he wouldn’t dare.

But seeing the contempt in her eyes…

_It doesn’t involve you._

_It has nothing to do with you._

_Just drop it and find your damn rebellious kick somewhere else!_

_Let someone be happy, for once, you miserable shit!_

The look in her eyes was both numbing and, at the same time, beguiling.

_Forgive us our trespasses and lead us not into temptation…_

He broke their eye contact and put on his old, familiar mask. He walked outside with his laden tray, smiled at everyone gathered in the yard, and cheered, “All right, everyone, burger time!”

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I had some trouble with this one. I wanted to stay true to what I had written before, as well as the characters themselves, without going too far off or making everything believable. I hope each character still comes across as they had before, or as I intended them to. If not, well, we'll see how the next parts go. It's only just starting, and the BBQ isn't over, yet, either!
> 
> If you want updates, or to ask me questions about the fics/fandom/writing process, or whatever else you may want to ask, as well as have an interest in whatever a random fangirl posts online, just follow my tumblr: justthefangirl.tumblr.com
> 
> Kudos are loved, but comments and critiques girl me! Feel free to leave them!  
> Toodles.


End file.
